Since You Asked: The seasons come and go, just like the bears

much younger and spent whole summers at Lake Tahoe, the weather changed right after Labor Day and it felt OK to abandon vacation and drive back home to Greenbrae.

My life is different now. Labor Day is just a number on the calendar. I no longer have children to get ready for school — no last-minute trips to the barbershop or to Penney's to buy new clothes. Now, September can come and it might as well be June or August. Rowland and I are retired and can do what we want to, whenever and whatever the season. Why should I care about summer?

Except that I feel the change in my bones.

And we, apparently, are not the only ones who feel it. We learned to our dismay a couple of weeks ago that wild animals, too, are affected by the changing seasons. As winter approaches, the bears in the Lake Tahoe region get hungrier and hungrier and begin to invade private homes.

We have a cabin in the Tahoe area, and have long heard the stories. Nevertheless we were bowled over during a recent visit to find that a bear — a large and obviously strong bear — had broken into our home and trashed almost everything in sight.

Whew.

The large sliding glass door leading into the main room and kitchen had been pushed inward, toppling the TV and gouging the tile kitchen counter. The door just lay on its side, covered with paw prints and gouged with deep scratches. After gaining entry, the bear had proceeded to open the cabinets, swiping bottles of wine, chocolate sauce, gravy, whatever, onto the floor before opening the refrigerator and freezer doors and taking all the food.

Clever critters, these wild bears.

Two much-younger neighbors helped us remount the sliding door. One said he had seen a bear and her cub strolling the street the day before; two other cabins on our block had been raided.

Rowland and I spent the better part of two days cleaning up. Every kitchen surface was spattered with sauce.

At night we covered the glass door with a sheet, and left a light on outside along with a bowlful of ammonia, measures recommended by our Tahoe friend Tyke Borwick, who said bears like to return to the scene of their crimes. Despite these measures, I felt nervous anyway.

Tyke assured us that bears do not hurt humans unless confronted.

I couldn't help being glad that it was we who discovered the invasion; my grandkids, who visit frequently, might have been freaked.

Once the place was cleaned up and somewhat bear-proofed, we relaxed into the beauties of our Tahoe surroundings. I painted outdoor furniture; Rowland planted a row of small pines along the front of the cabin. We walked to the lake front and drank in the view.

When it came time to leave for home, we arranged with a neighbor to check the cabin every day to make sure it was safe. Tyke assured us that the bears would not be a threat, once the cold weather came and they hibernate.

So now I'm just wistful that summer is gone.

Tahoe will grow cold, and back home in Greenbrae, our patio days will be over.

The trees will begin to denude themselves, the days will grow shorter, there'll be a snap in the air, and — I shudder to say it — the rains will be back.

The seasons come and go, and so do the bears. As partners in nature, we have to go with the flow.